Loki and Bartleby Do Television
by NeoVenus22
Summary: What happens after Loki and Bartleby die...a humorous look. R for some language. [complete]
1. Loki and Bartleby Do Exposition

Author's opening message: Hey all! Another meaningless fic, but this one's fun! There will be more parts, worry you not!  
  
Author's note: Some system or another does not want to support html, so stage directions or whichever are in //'s, word emphasises are in **'s.  
  
Author's feeble request: Please R/R!!!  
  
Disclaimer: Loki, Bartleby, Metatron, and all others were created by Kevin Smith. God was created by various religions, though the use of Alanis Morrisette as God, which is how I'm using Her, was also created by Kevin Smith. Alanis Morrisette was created by God. Thank you.  
~NV22~  
  
***  
  
At the end of Dogma, it was uncertain where fallen angels Loki and Bartleby went after death. Would they return to Heaven? Would they go to Hell? Or would they simply wait outside the Gates for all eternity, as decreed? At last, their punishment was discovered...  
  
~~~ LOKI AND BARTLEBY ~~~ THE COMMERCIAL YEARS ~~~  
  
"What do you think He's going to do to us?" Loki muttered worriedly as he and Bartleby made way to God's throne. The doors were closed, and they took a seat.  
  
"I don't know," Bartleby answered. "I don't *want* to know. You know..." he coughed, waited until Loki was looking at him. "I was never sorry for taking you away from your job all those years ago. But I'm sorry for what happened today. Truly sorry. I can only beg your forgiveness, Loki. I'll take whatever God has to offer --I'll take both our punishments-- if only you'll forgive me for what I've done to you."  
  
There was a long pause, Loki only staring at his compatriot. Finally, a smile crossed his features. "Of course I can," he said. "I can't stay mad at you for long, Bartleby. I forgave you for getting us cast out of Heaven, didn't I?"  
  
"This isn't gonna start again, is it?" Bartleby said. "Because it wasn't *my* fault, you know..."  
  
Loki held up a hand, halting Bartleby's tirade in its tracks. The doors were opening.  
  
It was time.  
  
"Well, boys," the Voice said, wearing his usual face of annoyance. "Welcome. It's time for your Judgment."  
  
God was sitting serenely, unblinkingly, on her enormous throne. Loki and Bartleby bowed their heads, more out of fear than respect.  
  
"Loki, the former Angel of Death," Metatron boomed in a voice so powerful they had to look up again, "Bartleby, a former Grigori. You were disbanded from Heaven once, for refusing the duties of your roles. Again you come before your Lord and Creator to face Judgment. This time you are charged with a far more grievous crime, being responsible for the deaths of," he looked to a sheet in his hand, and upon seeing the number, swallowed hard. "Two hundred and fifty-eight people," he read.  
  
God winced and looked away. Loki and Bartleby looked down again. Bartleby's cheeks flushed. He'd always been the calm, rational one. He waited, hands clasped behind his back tightly, eyes focused on the floor as he awaited his sentence. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, on the verge of tears. He'd never meant for this to happen, he really hadn't...  
  
Loki's fingers grazed his arm. Without looking up, Bartleby's hand sought out that of his dearest friend, and the clutched one another as life preservers, ready to take their sentence together.  
  
"Now, your deeds regarding the incident in Red Bank, New Jersey, have been rectified," the Voice continued. Loki dared to look up, seeing the impassive face of Metatron reading their sentence, God only looking at her two angels. Her eyes alighted on Loki's own, and he ventured a smile, his way of saying thank you for repairing their mistake. It would never be enough, never, but he was surprised to see his beloved God returning his smile with a tentative one of her own, and nodding slightly. Loki swelled with a rush of hope, and squeezed Bartleby's hand encouragingly. Still the Grigori stared at the floor.  
  
"Your actions at the Mooby Corporation headquarters were quite a bit more damaging. However, you were justified in your accusations of idolaters, and to make this even more ridiculous, we here in Heaven really hated the second Mooby movie."  
  
"I can't believe it was so critically acclaimed," Loki burst, despite himself, and there was a moment in which Bartleby went rigid beside him. Metatron stared at Loki, looking more than a little aggravated. God smirked.  
  
"May I continue uninterrupted?" the Voice continued irritably, and Loki nodded, swallowing a laugh. Bartleby relaxed slightly but still never dared to look up. "God has decided on a punishment suitable enough for her fallen angels."  
  
"Hell?" Bartleby said softly, gazing at his Hush Puppies.  
  
Metatron shook his head. "No."  
  
Loki gulped. "New Jersey..?" he squeaked.  
  
"You will be given your own place, and reside in the state of your choice," Metatron declared.  
  
At last, Bartleby looked up, hopefully.  
  
"Your sentence, to be carried out immediately, is to do commercials."  
  
"WHAT!" the angels chorused.  
  
"You're kidding!" Loki said, looking on with thrilled disbelief.  
  
"Please tell me you're kidding," Bartleby said, with decidedly less enthusiasm.  
  
God shook her head, and Bartleby groaned. "I can't believe this."  
  
Loki was practically jumping up and down like a little kid. "I can't believe this!" he cried out. "I always wanted to be on TV!"  
  
***FIN*** 


	2. Loki and Bartleby Do Boston

Author's opening message: Well, here's chapter 2. One step closer, ne?  
  
Author's note: Some system or another does not want to support html, so stage directions or whichever are in //'s, word emphasises are in **'s.  
  
Author's feeble request: Please R/R!!!  
  
Disclaimer: Loki & Bartleby were created by Kevin Smith. The concept of God was created by monotheistic religious factions. The use of a woman as God was also created by Kevin Smith, though not first-hand, although the use of Alanis Morrisette as God was created solely by Kevin Smith. Alanis Morrisette was created by God. All other characters that are used were created by me.  
  
Rated R for language.  
  
***  
  
The rosy fingers of dawn crept over Boston's landscape, filtering through the windows and creeping across the floors before landing on the face of a sleeping Loki. He groaned, rolled over, and pulled the covers over him --which ended up pulling them completely off of Bartleby, who was up on the bed.  
  
It was the first morning in the small apartment shared by the two. God was paying the bill for a fully furnished apartment and an endless supply of gum, though both angles quite missed the joys of being human, even if they'd only experienced it a few minutes.  
  
Bartleby moaned loudly and sat up. He yanked the wadded covers off his friend, threw them on the bed, got up, and kicked Loki's shoulder, all in one swift motion. "Hey!" Loki grumbled, sitting up. "What was that all about?"  
  
"You stole my blanket, you dick," Bartleby said, yawning.  
  
"It's not exactly warm in New England in January, you know," Loki pointed out.  
  
Bartleby fixed his companion with a pointed stare. "I know. That's why I was using the blanket." He strode out of his room into the bathroom the angels shared, Loki hot on his heels. "Why were you in my room, anyway? Hoping to get laid or something? 'Cause I'm not gay, you know."  
  
"You're an angel, you know," Loki said. "You're asexual, by definition." He smirked, jerked his thumb at Bartleby's boxers. "Or lack thereof," he added, and cracked up at his own lame joke.  
  
Bartleby shook his head and began to wash his face. "Either way. You have your own room. Sleep in it."  
  
Loki looked embarrassed. "I don't take well to new places."  
  
"You're scared of the dark in a new apartment, but you have no qualms whatsoever with shooting a couple making out on a moving bus," Bartleby said.  
  
"I didn't see you protesting, exactly. Besides, we were *all* created with imperfections," Loki countered. "Such as your love for Hallmark cards and the Lifetime channel, and your apparent disregard for authority." His gaze flickered briefly upwards, and Bartleby rolled his eyes.   
  
"So what's on tap for today," Bartleby drawled, running a razor over his face.  
  
"He signed us up with a contract," Loki said. He shoved his friend out of the way and started to preen like peacock. Bartleby looked disgusted and shoved him out of the way. Loki elbowed the Grigori back. "Dude! I've got a *razor* here," Bartleby said irritably, waving the foam-covered tool in the air to demonstrate his point.  
  
"Dude! You don't bleed."  
  
Bartleby sighed and threw his hands up. "Oh, fine. Just take *all* the mystery out of our existence, why don't you."  
  
"So He set us up with a contract, we're going to a studio and filming today," Loki said. He opened his mouth, as if to say something else, but faltered. Bartleby turned to see the Angel of Death fixated on the toilet.  
  
"It's a toilet."  
  
"I know."  
  
"You do realize you have no digestive system to speak of."  
  
"I know. D'ya think they charge us extra for that thing?"  
  
Bartleby sighed. "You're like a child, you know that? A fucking child."  
  
"Better a child than a crotchety old man!" Loki countered. "Would you hurry up already? We're going to be late."  
  
"Since when did you become punctual?" Bartleby grumbled, exiting the room.  
  
***  
  
The director on the set was a tall, thin, and very cheerful man by the name of Gareth Quentin. Loki, upon meeting him, whispered to Bartleby that Gareth reminded him of the character Jack on "Will & Grace".  
  
"I'd love to do a guest spot on that show," Loki enthused.  
  
Gareth's assistant was a short, plump Swede known only as Uli, who didn't speak a word English and merely ran around the set, barking directions at crew members that didn't speak a word of Swedish. Bartleby, leaning against a back wall, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, watched with amusement as Loki ran around wide-eyed like a kid in a candy store for the first time.  
  
"Hey, there," Bartleby said, snagging the arm of a passing gaffer. "Can you tell me what the fuck kind of commercial I'm filming here?"  
  
The guy shrugged himself loose. "Thing for McDonald's."  
  
Bartleby gaped. "You kidding me? So the guy over there in the big shoes isn't just for show?"  
  
"Guess not. Look, if you're one of the 'stars' of this piece of crap, I suggest you go over to Gay-eth there and make nice so he doesn't get your bad side, okay, chief?"  
  
"You don't want to make me mad, *chief*," Bartleby said in a menacing tone, feeling some of that old aggression building up again. God must really hate him. He rushed over to Gareth, who was surrounded by an exuberant Loki and a bored-looking Uli.  
  
"Hi, Mr. Quentin..." Bartleby began.  
  
"Call me Gareth," the director said, turning. He ran his gaze over Bartleby appreciatively, and let out a low whistle. "Although *you* can call me whatever you want, sugar," he drawled.  
  
"Um, yeah. Okay. I was just wondering, are we doing a McDonald's commercial?"  
  
"Why, you do your homework!" Gareth said gleefully, "Yes, we're doing a McDonald's commercial to try and appeal to an adult demographic," he declared, placing a hand on Bartleby's arm and squeezing his bicep. "Ooh, so strong..."  
  
"Yeah, and he likes to throw people against fucking walls, too," Loki said with a glare.  
  
"I thought you forgave me," Bartleby jumped in, groping directors out of his mind in an instant.  
  
"I forgave you for fucking killing me, not for throwing me against the wall and scaring the shit out of me," Loki replied.  
  
"Look, Sparky..."  
  
"This is cute and all, but could we puh-lease get to work?" Gareth said somewhat impatiently. "We have a deadline, and Mr. Sexy Clown over there is on a verrrrry expensive time card, okey-dokey karaoke?"  
  
Loki and Bartleby could only stare open-mouthed at Gareth. The director smiled, and clapped his hands. "Okay then. Let's get to work, people!"  
  
***FIN*** 


	3. Loki and Bartleby Do McDonald's

Author's opening message: Yeah, it's short, I know, but I hope it satisfies. -NV22  
  
Author's note: Some system or another does not want to support html, so stage directions or whichever are in //'s, word emphasises are in **'s.  
  
Author's feeble request: Please R/R!!!  
  
Disclaimer: Loki & Bartleby were created by Kevin Smith. Ronald McDonald and the entire McDonald's corporation were created by rich men I am not in association with. Thank you.  
  
***  
  
//The scene: the evening; a winter wonderland.//  
  
//Loki and Bartleby are playing in the snow, to the background of a cheery holiday tune. They're smiling and laughing as they roll the snow into a ball for the base. We focus on Bartleby's back as he bends down to pack in the bottom. We now move to Loki, who's gone off to the side and is now rolling a ball for the middle of the snowman. Laughing, he picks up the large ball, and waddles over to the base. As he bends down to put it in place, a familiar white face appears, smiling, where Loki's snowball should go.//  
  
//Loki screams as the soundtrack muddles on, and drops the snowman's middle on his foot, where it breaks. Bartleby sits up, sees the head, and also screams. Ronald McDonald grins and stands up, patting Loki on the back and laughing at the snow on his boots. Loki laughs as well.  
Bartleby gets back to work, rolling a new middle for the snowman. Ronald skips over and starts to help him. Bartleby irritably pushes him away. Ronald's smiling face falters a second, and he says something to Bartleby that is unheard by the audience before leaning over again to help.//  
  
//Bartleby yells at the clown again, and shoves him over. He calls over to his shoulder to Loki, who agreeably skips over and helps. They put the middle on the base, and begin to roll the head, oblivious to the clown. Ronald, in retaliation, skips over and dumps snow on their backs.//  
  
//We close in on Bartleby's face, looking severely pissed. Slowly he rises to his feet as the music swells and the snow falls gently. Loki, squatting on the ground, can only watch. With a look of angered calm on his face, Bartleby sucker-punches the clown in the stomach. The clown gasps and doubles over, clutching at his gut while Loki sits and laughs. Bartleby hits the clown in the head, muttering something. Ronald suddenly straightens, his usual smiling face now contorted in pain, and he lets punches fly.//  
  
"CUT!"  
  
***FIN*** 


	4. Loki and Bartleby Do On-Set Violence

Author's note: Some system or another does not want to support html, so stage directions or whichever are in //'s, word emphasises are in **'s.  
  
Author's feeble request: Please R/R!!!  
  
Disclaimer: Loki, Bartleby, and Metatron were created by Kevin Smith. Ronald McDonald and the entire McDonald's corporation were created by rich men I am not in association with. Gareth and Uli were created by me. Thank you.  
  
R for language  
  
***  
  
Gareth came running onto the set, sending the fake flakes flying. "Cut, cut, cut!" he yelled, waving his hands in the air and dropping his happy-go-lucky demeanor. "What the hell was that all about?"  
  
"What the hell was up with that--that--*clown* dumping snow on my back?" Bartleby sputtered.  
  
"It's not real snow, Bartleby," Loki said softly.  
  
"It itches like fuck!" he complained. "Gareth, what kind of bullshit is this?"  
  
"Call me Mr. Quentin," Gareth said coldly. "I can't believe this, you're going to ruin my career, absolutely *ruin* it..." he began to pace, massaging his temples.  
  
"If I wasn't working with such a crappy premise--"  
  
"McDonald's isn't a crappy premise!" the clown exploded, running his hands through his red curls in frustration. There was a large, flesh-colored mark in the shape of a fist on his left cheek.  
  
"No one gives a flying fuck about your 'service with a smile' bullshit! And that's what it is, bullshit!" Bartleby yelled. "They never give *me* service with a smile when I go there!"  
  
"That's usually because you order your super-size drink done up Irish-style, and everything has to come with an extra empty box," Loki said.  
  
"Would you shut the fuck up?" Bartleby said irritably.  
  
Gareth took a few deep breaths and faced his stars with a fake but pleasant smile. "Listen, sweeties. Ronnie-poo here is a very costly star, and he's kind of a necessity to the commercial." Gareth paused, and winked roguishly. "Unless one of *you* wants to wear the makeup," he drawled.  
  
"Oh, fuck no," Bartleby and Ronald chorused.  
  
"I'll do it," Loki volunteered, but no one had heard him.  
  
"Oh, darling," Gareth said, reaching up and stroking Bartleby's face. "That white makeup will absolutely accentuate your to-*die*-for cheekbones. Now, what's your name again, sweet thing?"  
  
Bartleby stood stock-still for a moment, staring at the director in shock. Finally Gareth withdrew his hand and Bartleby replied, stammering, "Um, Bar-Bartleby. I'm Bartleby, and this is Loki."  
  
"No last names?"  
  
"Uh, no. No."  
  
"Playing the whole Madonna-Cher-Bono one name card, are we? Well, Barty-dear," he said, and Bartleby glared, "if you won't wear the makeup and you won't participate with our clown, I'm going to have to let you go."  
  
"You're *firing* me?" Bartleby said incredulously.  
  
"Yep."  
  
"You're fucking kidding me. I've never been fired from anything!" he said, grabbing Gareth's shoulders and shaking him slightly.  
  
Loki snorted. "Except from a little place called *Heaven*," he said.  
  
Immediately Bartleby dropped the director and turned to his friend. "I thought we agreed not to bring that up again," he said stiffly.  
  
"'We' agreed?"  
  
"Yeah. We agreed that I wouldn't give you shit about your job if you didn't bring up the fact that I got us kicked out of Heaven twice."  
  
Gareth steepled his fingers and his eyes widened in delight. "'Kicked out of Heaven'?" he repeated. "Is that some sort of scandalous sex term? Are you two..." he paused for maximum effect, and outright whispered the word, "*lovers*?"  
  
"NO!" Loki and Bartleby shouted in unison, and stared at each other in mild disgust at the outburst. "We're just longtime friends," Loki said.  
  
Bartleby threw his hands up. "Jesus! Maybe I really *do* come off as gay!"  
  
Over Gareth's shoulder, Ronald McDonald was nodding furiously. Bartleby was enraged. "Why you little face-painted dick..." he growled, and lunged for the kill.  
  
The next few seconds were pure, unadulterated chaos. Bartleby was cursing loudly, arms flailing, straining to beat the crap out of the clown; Loki was clutching at the Gregorian's waist, yelling at him to calm the fuck down; Gareth was squealing through his fingers and dancing on tiptoes; Uli was screaming God-knows-what in Swedish; and Ronald was hurling insults at Bartleby and dancing just out of reach while a cadre of crew members looked on and took bets.  
  
When the proverbial smoke cleared, there was a ton of clown makeup on Bartleby's hands, an unconscious McDonald's mascot being carted off to the hospital, a furious gay director, a pair of fired angels, and a very disappointed Loki sitting on the curb by the studio and crying as Bartleby cursed the entire McDonald's franchise under his breath and Uli taunted them through a window.  
  
Up above, Metatron shook his head ruefully. "Well that's just fabulous. What are we supposed to do now."  
  
***FIN*** 


	5. Loki and Bartleby Do Dead Fads

Author's note: Some system or another does not want to support html, so stage directions or whichever are in //'s, word emphasises are in **'s.  
  
Author's feeble request: Please R/R!!!  
  
Disclaimer: Loki and Bartleby were created by Kevin Smith. I am not Kevin Smith. Thank you.  
  
R for language  
  
***  
  
Another morning dawned on the fine city of Boston, Massachusetts, and the sunlight oozed into Bartleby's sparsely furnished bedroom. He opened one eye and squinted at the floor. No Loki. With a contented sigh, he burrowed back under the covers and promptly fell asleep again.  
  
No more than three minutes later, he was awakened by an earthquake. Or so he thought. Yelping like a dog who had just had their tail trodden on by a mean child, he leapt from his bed, eyes squeezed shut and hands hugging his head.  
  
And the room stilled once more. Slowly Bartleby dropped his hands, and looked up.  
  
Loki was kneeling in the middle of Bartleby's queen-sized bed, dressed in light-blue pajamas patterned with happy white bunnies, grinning like it was Christmas morning. Bartleby checked his day calendar. It was not. A good thing, considering he hadn't gone shopping and Loki was quite insatiable when it came to presents.  
  
"What the fuck do you want?" the Grigori said moodily, flouncing on the bed and pushing Loki out of the way. Loki, on his knees, promptly lost his balance and fell off the bed with a resounding thud and a loud cry of "Fuck!"  
  
Bartleby laughed to himself as Loki's head appeared over the edge again, and the Angel of Death stood up and brushed lint particles off his bunny pajamas. "Do you know what today is?"  
  
"No. Let's keep it that way." Bartleby irritably flipped his friend the bird and crawled under the covers again. He wasn't *that* much awake that he couldn't get back to sleep.  
  
"Come *on*," Loki said. "You wake me up at fucking seven in the morning and drag me to the fucking airport so you can watch people make out like some fucking peeping tom, but when I wake you up the *one time*, you flip me off."  
  
"Yes, I did. Unless this is a matter of fucking life and death, I don't care."  
  
"It could be," Loki said with a pout.  
  
"I doubt it," Bartleby mumbled into his pillow. "We're angels. We're neither living or dead."  
  
"I'm well fucking aware of that," Loki said, rolling his eyes and jumping on the bed again. Bartleby rolled over and glared at the other angel. "*Do* you mind?" he said.  
  
"I can wait all day."  
  
"I'm sure you can. Don't you have cartoons or something to watch?"  
  
"They can wait for a few hours."  
  
"What the fuck time *is* it?"  
  
"Aren't you going to ask me what I'm so damn excited about?" Loki pressed.  
  
"Will you go away if I do?"  
  
"For a few hours."  
  
Bartleby sighed. "All right, all right. What the fuck are you so excited about."  
  
"Today is the release of the new Superstation Cube!" Loki said gleefully.  
  
Bartleby stared. "Come again?"  
  
This time it was Loki who sighed. "Don't you *read*? The Superstation Cube is the first system being released by the Slapcom company." He waited a beat, but got no response. "The new video game company?"  
  
"Why does this matter?"  
  
"Because it's fun and new and I want one."  
  
"*Why*?"  
  
"This coming from the guy who owns over two million different pogs."  
  
"Need I remind you about that library of Pokemon cards you own?" Bartleby shot back.  
  
"You have Power Ranger action figures in your closet," Loki answered.  
  
"You carried around three Tamagotchis."  
  
"You did the Macarena. For a fucking *year* after it went out of style because you were convinced it'd be back!"  
  
"You owned Furbies!"  
  
Loki looked around desperately, jumped to his feet, pointed at Bartleby, and shrieked, "YOU HAD BARBIES IN YOUR CLOSET!"  
  
"DAMMIT!" Bartleby yelled, punching the mattress. "Fine. It's not like we're doing anything today *anyway*--"  
  
"'Cause you got us fired," Loki said gleefully.  
  
"--Watch yourself--we'll go down to the mall and buy your damn Super-duper-lame-box-whatever-thing. But we're getting rid of the Coleco! There just isn't enough room."  
  
"Fuck no!" Loki yelled. "That's classic!"  
  
"You have to get rid of something," Bartleby called over his shoulder as he shuffled to the bathroom.  
  
"Say goodbye to Malibu Barbie then!"  
  
***FIN*** 


	6. Loki and Bartleby Do Lingerie

Author's note: Some system or another does not want to support html, so stage directions or whichever are in //'s, word emphasises are in **'s.  
  
Author's feeble request: Please R/R!!!  
  
Disclaimer: Loki and Bartleby were created by Kevin Smith. I am not Kevin Smith. Thank you.  
  
R for language  
  
***  
  
"I can't believe I'm here, I can't believe I'm here, I can't believe I'm here, I can't--"  
  
"Dude, would you shut the fuck up already?" Loki said, tapping his feet against the junction where the wall and the floor met. There was a strip of linoleum that made an interesting if not completely annoying sound against the bottom of his Hush Puppies.  
  
"We've been waiting in line for *three hours*, Loki!" Bartleby yelled, causing a few people in front of them to turn around and stare incredulously.  
  
Loki laughed feebly and offered the watchers a wave. They slowly turned around, some of them grumbling, and he attacked his fellow angel. "We're in the middle of a fucking *mall*, you dick. Try to blend in, okay? Don't be calling me 'Loki' at the top of your fucking lungs. Do you want to get us in trouble?"  
  
"Do you want me to kick your fucking ass?" Bartleby said irritably.  
  
"Oh, would you?" Loki faux-begged. "Would you please? Then at last I could die happy, Barry, dear..."  
  
"Shut it," Bartleby said, clamping a hand over Loki's mouth and looking around nervously. When he was at last satisfied that no one was looking, he released his fellow angel. "You sound like that Quentin jerk," he complained.  
  
"Would you like some cheese to go with your whine?" Loki said. "You're just pissed because he fired your lame ass."  
  
"Wine...man, I miss that stuff," Bartleby said fondly.  
  
"As I recall, it was you who screwed that over for us," Loki answered. "For everyone, for that matter. The Voice is still pretty pissed about it."  
  
"Jesus Christ, man, that was *eons* ago, you think he'd let it go by now."  
  
"You know he's a lush. Hey, the line's moving!"  
  
Sure enough, the line that the two angels had been waiting in for quite some time now was finally moving. The local software store had at last opened. It was epic to witness, as the neat line of polite individuals suddenly transformed into a harried mass of screaming, cursing, violent savages. Loki included himself in this mob, using his ethereal powers to the best of his ability while still managing to be anonymous, and securing his beloved Superstation Cube.  
  
Bartleby relaxed against the window of the store, calmly studying his hands as he listened to frantic screams and cries of pain. This was like Sodom and Gomorrah all over again.  
  
Finally Loki emerged, little splotches of red splattering his coat, a large box clutched firmly to his chest.  
  
"I hope you paid for that," Bartleby said.  
  
"In a manner of speaking," Loki said, looking frantically over Bartleby's shoulder into the store, then grabbing his friend's hand. "C'mon," he said breathlessly, and took off running.  
  
Bartleby only got to glance over his shoulder a second before he was half-dragged throughout the mall, and saw an angry mob forming and chasing after the two of them.  
  
"What the fuck did you do?" Bartleby cried, as the two of them ducked into a maternity store and hid behind a headless mannequin decked out in a shirt bearing the slogan "Baby On Board". The small crowd rumbled past the store, and the angels dared to lift their heads.  
  
"Remember when Tickle Me Elmo came out?" Loki said.  
  
Bartleby gaped. "*Fuck*, Loki, not *again*," he said, and glanced out of the store. "We'd better make ourselves scarce," he said, and they bustled out of the store as efficiently as they could. "I can't believe you," he said, as they walked quickly through the mall.  
  
"I couldn't help it!" Loki said. "Honestly, they're animals in there! Dog-eat-dog!"  
  
"Jesus, Loki, we've already been kicked out of Heaven twice. Are you fucking masochistic?"  
  
"I couldn't help it!" Loki repeated. He stopped dead, hysterical. "I'm sorry, man, I'm sorry, I--"  
  
Bartleby didn't want to make more of a scene than they already had. He patted his friend's shoulder reassuringly, and said, "It'll be all right, Sparky. C'mon, let's go home."  
  
They started off again, but had made it no farther than five feet when they heard a cry of "THERE THEY ARE!"  
  
"Shit!" Bartleby said, and the angels took off running again. "In here!" He grabbed Loki's arm, steered him around a sharp corner, and into a lingerie store. Without stopping to look back, they dove into the dressing rooms and locked themselves into stalls.  
  
They remained in there a few minutes, somewhat scaring the employees and patrons, all of whom were women. When they finally emerged, they walked through the store quickly and silently, Loki still holding his large box to his chest, and out the door without looking back.  
  
Neither of them noticed, or if they did, they chose to ignore, the red lacy undergarments that were sticking to random folds in their trench coats.  
  
As the pair walked sullenly out of the store, one shopper could've sworn she heard the shorter one say, "Does this remind you of when Harry Potter four came out?"  
  
***FIN*** 


	7. Loki and Bartleby Do Absolutely Nothing ...

Author's opening message: Yeah, it's short, I know, but I hope it satisfies. -NV22  
  
Author's note: Some system or another does not want to support html, so stage directions or whichever are in //'s, word emphasises are in **'s.  
  
Author's feeble request: Please R/R!!!  
  
Disclaimer: Loki and Bartleby were created by Kevin Smith. I am not Kevin Smith. Thank you.  
  
R for language  
  
***  
  
Over the next couple of weeks, the renegade angels were in a selection of commercials, several of which were widely received, several of which left audiences out in the cold and saw the dumpster before too long.  
  
//A slow, sensual tune floods the air. The room is black and endless, white chairs floating about, each holding a beautiful model just barely clad in skimpy, silky underwear sets. The models are all fresh new faces, never before seen, clearly on the brink of international fame.//  
//The first is a shapely blond, her hair full and cascading down her back as she straddles a chair and leans back to display her endowments.//  
//The other models are in similar positions oozing eroticism, a steady camera pan of a brunette and another blond, this display accompanied by a breathy, feminine voiceover, laden with seductive tones.//  
//"This season, the new bra is rated triple X...*ex*-citing, *ex*-hilarating, and *ex*-pensive."//  
//A pretty Asian woman, and a second brunette pass into the frame...//  
//The voiceover continues: "The new Pollyanna bra series, only at Victoria--"//  
//The voiceover fades into a horrified scream as a young, blond male (Loki), wearing a lacy bra and panties appears on screen, stretched out almost obscenely over a chair.//  
  
//A car passes quickly onto the screen, the familiar strains of a song begin, and a small child appears, with a minor cowlick, an out-of-place suit, and a slightly gapped tooth grin.//  
//"Zoom, zoom," he whispers, and...//  
//...is BLINDSIDED by an enraged Bartleby, screaming about demons and what-have-you as he pummels the poor child into the pavement.//  
  
//Bartleby is sprawled on a couch, watching TV. The phone rings. He lifts the remote, hits the mute button, and answers.//  
//"Hello?"//  
//"WAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSUPPPPPPPPP!!"//  
//"Call me again and I'll rape your mother." He hangs up.//  
  
***FIN*** 


	8. Loki and Bartleby Do The Produce Aisle

Author's opening message: Another wacky chapter, hope you think it's fun. -NV22  
  
Author's note: Some system or another does not want to support html, so stage directions or whichever are in //'s, word emphasises are in **'s.  
  
Author's feeble request: Please R/R!!!  
  
Disclaimer: Loki and Bartleby were created by Kevin Smith. I am not Kevin Smith. Thank you.  
  
R for language  
  
***  
  
Bartleby settled down on the couch, picked up the remote, and smiled. It was his favorite time of the day; time for Gilligan and his wacky adventures. Loki was locked in his room, tinkering with small explosives. But as long as the TV remained in tact for half an hour, Bartleby didn't really care.  
  
The opening credits began to roll, and Bartleby propped his arms behind his head. Humanity had existed for eons, and as far as he could tell, they'd only done two things right. Microwavable dinners and Gilligan reruns. Damn.  
  
It was Bartleby's favorite episode, the one with the hunter who came and chased Gilligan around the island with one of those huge guns. He was about ten minutes into the show when Loki appeared, looking a little flustered and a lot ashy.  
  
Bartleby looked him over. "This is why you were born an angel and not a scientist."  
  
Loki was breathless as he spoke. "The green liquid?" he gasped, gesturing elaborately, "don't ever, *ever* mix it with the blue liquid."  
  
Bartleby nodded. "Gotcha." He turned his attention back to the screen, but a series of commercials had already started. "Oh, fuck! You made me miss my show!"  
  
"There's still twenty minutes left, and you've seen this episode fifty-five times already. And that was just this year."  
  
"Well, c'mon. Guys with guns. You gotta love it."  
  
Loki shrugged in agreement, and they stared at the screen like any good Gen-Xers. A preview for The Bourne Identity came on, and Bartleby groaned. "Jesus, man, five times a day! You know what this guy's motivation was for this movie? 'I'm Matt Damon. I'm in France and I'm sexy.'"  
  
Loki nodded, eyes riveted to the screen. "Probably," he agreed in a far-off voice.  
  
Bartleby glanced at him, then to the screen, then back again, then back *again*. "You...you look a lot like that guy," he said, pointing.  
  
"What? Of course not!" There was a pause. "I have much better hair."  
  
"Why are you even in here?" Bartleby asked.  
  
"Oh. We need to go to the grocery store. We're out of food coloring."  
  
"What?"  
  
"How else do you think I made the green liquid?"  
  
Bartleby groaned. "Oh, c'mon, my *show's* on! Don't do this to me, man! I let you watch Hey Arnold!"  
  
"You have this on tape." Loki turned off the TV and dragged a grumbling Bartleby outside.  
  
***  
  
  
The Supermart grocery store on a Thursday afternoon. Fairly empty, a few neighborhood locals milling about, minding their own business as they compared the prices on Fruit Loops and weighed zucchinis.  
  
Then suddenly a blur of black overcoat and blond hair wheeled past, pushing a shopping cart and whooping. The makeshift bobsled turned the corner and disappeared, and a few seconds later, a second man in a black overcoat lumbered past on foot , screaming, "Loki! Get your stupid ass back here!" before also disappearing around the corner.  
  
The shoppers paused, some glancing at each other in confusion, then jumped simultaneously as they heard a loud crash. A single can of tomato sauce rolled in from the next aisle and clattered to a stop.  
  
Over in the canned foods aisle, a shopping cart lay on its side, one lone wheel spinning in the air creakily, as a startled Loki lay on the floor next to it, shaking. Bartleby hurried over to his friend and bent down, wondering if the blond angel was going through trauma.  
  
But as he leaned in closer, Loki laughed in his face. "Man! That fucking rocked! Can we do it again?"  
  
"NO!" Bartleby helped Loki, still laughing, to his feet, and then calmly smacked the Angel of Death in the back of the head. "Do that again and I'll kill you a second time."  
  
"Oh, lighten up."  
  
Bartleby sighed. "Why are we here, again?"  
  
"Food coloring." Loki paused. "And cookies."  
  
"You can't eat cookies. You can't digest."  
  
"They taste good."  
  
"If I buy you food coloring and gum, can we leave?"  
  
"And beer?"  
  
"You. Can't. DRINK! Beer."  
  
"For spitting, dumbass," Loki said irritably, as though this was the most obvious thing in the universe, which, Bartleby supposed, it probably was.  
  
"Fine. But we have to share."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Bartleby tipped the cart right side up and started to push off in search for the food coloring/gum/beer aisles, when Loki coughed loudly behind him. Bartleby turned, his angelic companion was wearing a puppy-dog expression. The Grigori sighed deeply. "You want to ride in the cart, don't you."  
  
Loki nodded.  
  
"Climb on in, old friend."  
  
As the smaller angel hoisted himself into the cart, he leaned over to whisper something in the Watcher's ear. Bartleby laughed.  
  
Less than five minutes later, shoppers in the produce aisle were forced to jump out of the way as a shopping cart bearing two young men rattled past, the blond guy in the cart shouting out triumphantly, "'Cause we Jamaicans have a bobsled team!"  
  
***FIN*** 


	9. Loki and Bartleby Do Ensemble Casts

Author's opening message: And yet another chapter! When does the madness end? -NV22  
  
Author's note: Some system or another does not want to support html, so stage directions or whichever are in //'s, word emphasises are in **'s.  
  
Author's feeble request: Please R/R!!!  
  
Disclaimer: Loki and Bartleby were created by Kevin Smith. I am not Kevin Smith. Thank you.  
  
R for language  
  
***  
  
Up above --and by 'above', of course, we mean *way* above, in a little place we like to think of as Heaven, Paradise, etc.-- an ever-patient deity and her surly right-hand seraphim were watching the pair of bumbling would-be angels wandering around the streets of Boston, getting into mischief in ways only they could.  
  
"This is ridiculous," the Voice said with extreme distaste. "We should just send them to Hell, you know. Yesterday, Loki pretended Supermart was Gomorrah. He rained down sulfur in aisle five because he wanted to see if the popcorn would pop."  
  
"Did it?" God asked, and Metatron glared.  
  
"Yes," he said deliberately, "it did. The snack aisle was next to the frozen foods aisle, and everything there melted, which flooded out the fire, but left everything in ruins. Your soft spot for those two will be the destruction of the world as we know it, honestly. It already almost was once."  
  
"You know, I created you to be a subordinate, not a wiseass. So watch yourself."  
  
Metatron sighed deeply. "All right, all right, don't overload your circuitry. What do you propose we do for their next endeavor? They haven't been successful thus far, what with the taller one's violent streak."  
  
"I was thinking we'd enlist some...'outside' help..."  
  
***  
  
//The setting: a bustling city street. Four men are walking down, talking amongst themselves. As they step closer into frame, we see that they are in fact Loki, Bartleby, Rufus, and Azrael. Loki suddenly stops dead in his tracks, eyes alighting on something on the ground. He stoops, and as the others turn to watch, rises to his feet, triumphantly clutching a dollar bill.//  
  
//LOKI: Hey! A dollar!//  
  
//AZRAEL: What are you so happy about? It's just a buck.//  
  
//BARTLEBY: He's got the brain of a singular celled organism, that's why.//  
  
//RUFUS: You know, you can buy a lot with a dollar.//  
  
//AZRAEL: Like hell you can. (beat) Get it?//  
  
//LOKI (to himself): I think I'll get some gum.//  
  
//Loki stares at the dollar as if it holds the secrets to the universe.//  
  
//RUFUS (flashing the camera a fake smile): You can use 10-10-220. All calls up to a minute are only a dollar, and only 20 cents each minute after that.//  
  
//BARTLEBY: You can also take that dollar home and save it, you know. (He's ignored.)//  
  
//AZRAEL: 'Cause I'm *from* hell?//  
  
//Rufus hits him, still wearing the fake smile.//  
  
//RUFUS: Shut up. 10-10-220--//  
  
//No one's paying attention to him. Azrael looks pissed and lunges for Loki's dollar, who puts up a fight by smacking the demon repeatedly in the face. Bartleby is gazing off to the side.//  
  
//BARTLEBY: You know, I have thirty-seven dollars and sixty-three cents in change at home.//  
  
//Azrael and Loki are now each grabbing onto the bill with one hand, having a girly slapping fight with their respective free hands. It's quite pathetic.//  
  
//AZRAEL: Gimme the damn dollar, you stupid angel!//  
  
//LOKI: Get off! That's my gum allowance!//  
  
//Bartleby sees this, dives between the two and tries to hold them apart.//  
  
//RUFUS (desperately): Ten...ten...//  
  
//Loki wails as Azrael gives him an Indian burn.//  
  
//RUFUS: Twenty? I...oh...oh, shit, I give up.//  
  
//Rufus walks off. The dollar rips in two, and Azrael falls backwards, hitting the sidewalk painfully. Loki, rubbing his sore arm, laughs through his pain. Bartleby sighs irritably.//  
  
//BARTLEBY: I'm going to go count my pennies.//  
  
//Fade out.//  
  
***  
  
Back in Heaven...  
Metatron shook his head. "Could you make me human? I want to die now."  
  
***FIN*** 


	10. Loki and Bartleby Do Victory Dances

Author's opening message: Here it is, guys, the final chapter. I just wanted to say that you guys have been great, and I really appreciate all the support I've gotten on this project. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed, and especially to those that liked it. A special thanks goes out to Meghan and Marisa, who worship Loki as much as I do. Another special thanks goes to my sometimes editors Lena [Assassin Shura] and Josh, for rocking the house and saying, "Yes, Casey, it's funny. I think you should be put in an insane asylum, but it's funny."  
  
Author's note: Some system or another does not want to support html, so stage directions or whichever are in //'s, word emphasises are in **'s.  
  
Author's feeble request: Please R/R!!!  
  
Disclaimer: Loki and Bartleby were created by Kevin Smith. I am not Kevin Smith. Thank you.  
  
R for language  
  
***  
  
Loki and Bartleby were lounging about their hip, renegade-angels-cum-suburbanites pad, when they heard a voice from above. More accurately, they heard The Voice, who said, "Loki. Bartleby. This is the Voice of God."  
  
Loki jumped off the couch, squatted, threw his hands in the air, squinted his eyes, and said in a nasally voice, "Incoming message from the Big Giant Head."  
  
Bartleby swatted his friend in the back of the head, which caused Loki to fall over. "Blaspheming idiot."  
  
"Ow," Loki said, crawling over to the edge of the couch and leaning against it.  
  
"If you two don't watch it, I'm going to smite you myself," the Voice said irritably, dropping the 'sent from God' act. With a flash of fire, a few loose feathers (one of which Loki inhaled), the Metatron appeared in the angels' living room. He looked around, made a disgusted face. "Quaint.  
  
"Anyway, it's come to the matter of your return to Heaven," he said.  
  
Loki coughed and frantically pointed to his throat. He was choking on a feather.  
  
"Oh, dear *Lord*," the Metatron groaned, and buried his head in his hand. Bartleby began to pound his fists furiously against Loki's back. Loki hacked, reared his head back, and then heaved a spittle-covered feather, which, naturally, landed right in the Metatron's face. The Metatron made noises and gestures of disgust, prying the damp article off of his face, his entire display going unnoticed by his fellow angels, who were bickering as usual.  
  
"That's your idea of saving me?" Loki said.  
  
"It *worked*, didn't it?" Bartleby answered.  
  
"You could *work* on your bedside manner a little bit!"  
  
"I saved your life!"  
  
"I'm immortal! The least you could do is learn the Heimlich maneuver."  
  
"Why would I waste time learning that? You can't digest!"  
  
"For occasions like this one!"  
  
"Jesus Christ! I *give* and I *give* and I *give*..."  
  
"Could you two shut your ungrateful, phlegm-y little traps for all of five seconds so I may finish this mission and go home?" the Metatron exploded, and two angels, immediately remorseful, turned to the seraphim with contrite expressions. "As I was saying, as you two have served six months--"  
  
"There was a time limit on this sentence?" Bartleby said. "I don't remember that."  
  
"--God has decided you both may return."  
  
"So we did a good job?" Loki said excitedly.  
  
"Not in the slightest!" the Voice answered. "You two are horrible actors. It's a good thing you two aren't mortals trying to make an honest living off of this escapade, you'd've been laughed clear out of the industry. The way I see it, we're doing the world a favor by letting you two back in."  
  
"So when can we go back?" Bartleby asked.  
  
"As soon as you want," the Metatron said. He checked his watch. "Leave a message in my box, would you? I have a lunch meeting with Donald Pleasence for lunch." With those as his parting words and a shake of maracas (he must have had a supply on hand), the Metatron disappeared.  
  
Loki turned to his friend. "Can you believe that? We get to go back! This is outstanding!"  
  
"It is cool," Bartleby agreed. "But there is one more thing I have to do before we go..."  
  
***  
  
Loki found himself following Bartleby into a studio. He recognized this place as being the studio where they'd shot the McDonald's commercial. He edged close to his friend and muttered, "Just what do you have in mind?"  
  
"I want to hit 'im," Bartleby said, a phrase that sounded familiar somehow, but Loki couldn't place it.  
  
"Who?" Loki asked.  
  
"Could I have a little less traction and a little more action, puh-*leeeze*?" a voice drawled. Loki lifted his head, and saw Gareth Quentin come into view. He was wearing a black beret, set askew, a tight sweater and tighter pants, and was clutching a clipboard. Hovering near his shoulder was his angry Swedish assistant, Uli. Loki glanced at the Grigori and saw a steely look in his brown eyes. One of rage. One formerly directed against the Last Scion, then at the whole of the human race, and now at a Swedish assistant director.  
  
"I hate that little fuck," Bartleby muttered, struck with a flashback of him, sitting on the curb in front of the studio, fired from his job, while Uli taunted him through the window. He let out a low growl, and charged at the unsuspecting Swede.  
  
There was a long squeal as Uli collapsed to the ground and was pummeled by an enraged Bartleby, who muttered breathlessly, "Speak! English! Dammit!," his words matching his punches.  
  
"Bartleby!" Loki said, and flung himself at the two, hoisting Bartleby away. "Are you trying to sabotage our trip? They finally let us back in, you fuck! Don't ruin this!" He grabbed Bartleby's arm and steered him to the door. "Come on, we're going home."  
  
As they left the front door, they heard Gareth Quentin call, "Barty, dear, is that you? You've gotten so much bigger since last time. Call me!"  
  
***  
  
It had been three weeks. Loki paced their swanky apartment anxiously, wearing a circle in the cloud-soft carpeting. He looked out the window every time he passed, taking in the fluffy clouds underfoot, the glistening sun overhead, the perfect blue sky everywhere you looked, the people walking and talking, happy to be dead.  
  
Loki flopped on the couch next to Bartleby, who was staring glumly at the television, occasionally flipping the channel. "I am so bored."  
  
"Ditto," the Grigori said. "They get lousy cable up here. I can't even find the Daily Show anywhere."  
  
"This is going to sound crazy, but..."  
  
"But?"  
  
"I want to go back to Earth."  
  
*The end ?* 


End file.
